


Storage Cabinets be Damned

by wordsonapaige



Series: 37 Flavors of Pineapple [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsonapaige/pseuds/wordsonapaige
Summary: Shawn won’t shut up, so Carlton makes him.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: 37 Flavors of Pineapple [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063787
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Storage Cabinets be Damned

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fanfic. I just started watching Psych (I know, I know, super late to the party) and this happened.

“I swear to God, Spencer, if you interrupt another interrogation.” The words were snarled from between grinding teeth as Carlton dragged Shawn down the hallway.

“I can’t help it when the visions come, Lassifras, I am merely a vessel.”

“Merely a vessel, my ass.” His fingers tightened around Spencer’s forearm, digging in to muscle and flesh, before flinging him into the small supply room removed from normal foot traffic.

AThis was something that had been a long time in coming, Carlton all too fed up by the constant immaturity and disrespect that Shawn showed on a daily basis.

“I mean it.” A long finger jabbed into the middle of some absurd graphic tee, one far too juvenile for the brunette to be wearing.

“So do I, Lassie, so do I.” Shawn wailed over dramatically, looking down at the finger which was pinning him in place. “My gift is a blessing as well as a burden.”

“A burden?” Lassiter barked a laugh, rolling his eyes in the process. “You’re the burden, Spencer. What we do, what _I_ do, it’s serious police work. It involves training and discipline and,”

“But that’s why I’ve been sent here!” Of course, Spencer interrupted him, beaming that ridiculous smile of his as he did so. “To aid you on your journey.”

Carlton was pretty sure his head was going to explode. Or that he was going to shoot the kid. Maybe not shoot. Maybe just punch him really, really hard. Anything, _anything_ to make him shut up.

“Spencer.” He ground out, jaw tensing enough to shatter teeth. “Spencer. Stop. Talking.”

“Besides. You’ve got the wrong guy.” The hysterics were over, the flailing subsiding for the moment as Shawn slid into that I know better than you persona that made Lassiter’s skin feel like it was literally on fire.

“Spencer.” The anger seethed, the annoyance, the sheer inability to do anything to just make. Him. Stop.

“First off, the person we’re looking for is a woman. With the tatas.” Shawn outlined the shape of breasts with his hands. “Secondly,”

But there were no more words. Just the solid whump of Shawn being shoved against an industrial storage cabinet. Lassiter had obviously lost his mind, pushed to the very brink of sanity, and did the only thing he could think of to stop Shawn’s mouth from running.

He covered it with his own.

It was unexpected, even for the detective, but there was something delicious to it. Not only the cool mix of vanilla and pineapple that lingered from the smoothIs he’d see Shawn carrying around earlier. But just in the silence, the control, the way that Spencer’s fingers splayed in shock before curving wantonly into Lassiter’s suit jacket.

Needing to breathe he broke away, leaning back but not releasing Spencer yet. The kid’s mouth was kiss bruised and pouty and Carlton could feel a smirk slicing across his own features. At least for the millisecond Spencer remained quiet.

“Good god, Lass.” Shawn finally choked out, “Do you have some burning need to play tonsil hockey with everyone you work with? How many times have you done this to the interim chief?” His eyes narrowed, “The kids not yours, is it?”

Growling in frustration, Carlton bent again, this time pinning Spencer to the cabinet bodily, hands sneaking under that stupid shirt to feel the warm skin below. This had not gone how he had planned. He should have stopped and bolted by now. But there was just something about the need to stop Spencer from talking.

“I mean.” Shawn was gasping when the kiss broke this time. His breath was coming out in pants, and his cheeks were flushed like he’d just run five miles. “I mean.” He repeated, seemingly unable to string words together, causing Lassiter to smirk further. “I mean I get the draw. Of you. Of-of me. Of the, uh,” he cleared his throat. “The kissing?” His voice becoming far too high pitched on the final note.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Carlton went in for a last time. His arms had worked their way around Shawn’s back, pulling him close and as he deepened their connection the kid had the nerve to whimper and go weak in the knees. Chuckling into the kiss, Lassiter steadied him, allowing Spencer to regain his footing before stepping away.

Smoothing down his shirt, and readjusting his jacket, Carlton looked with victory on a silent Shawn Spencer. It wouldn’t last long, the ‘psychic’s’ brain would catch up eventually, but for those seconds it was the most beautiful thing Lassiter had ever seen.

“Don’t ever.” Lassiter admonished, taking a moment to straighten Shawn’s shirt as well, making him as presentable as possible for what he was wearing. “Interrupt my interrogations again.”

Shawn mumbled something, and may have nodded, but Carlton didn’t care, he hardly noticed as he headed back into the hall. It had only been for a moment, just a single moment, but he’d won. He’d had control of Shawn Spencer, for a single second, and he didn’t know if anyone else could claim managing that.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback will totally help. There’s more coming.


End file.
